Tinsel
by Sior
Summary: Just a fluffy stockingfiller for DumbledoreMcGonagall 'shippers this Christmas.


**Disclaimer:** Non-profit. Unofficial. All in fun. 'Tis the season.

_Warning: This product contains traces of older characters having emotional and romantic ties. If your reaction to that is "gross!" rather than "cute!", you probably aren't going to enjoy this story. _

This story also contains: no deep psychological insight, no profound and engaging metaphors, no claim to high literary merit, and not even - now that I think of it - any plot. Just some Christmas tinsel, AD/MM style. Merry Christmas, everyone.

* * *

It was Christmas Day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The children played in the heavy snow which had fallen over night. Around the base of the castle, the snow was patterned here and there with coloured patches, reflecting the fairy lights from some of the downstairs classrooms. At one of these windows, a tall woman stood looking out over her young charges. 

At the far side of the lake, some of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were facing off for a five-a-side snowball fight. The woman watched as they organised their teams behind bulwarks of packed snow. Suddenly, a small Ravenclaw boy ran across the battlefield in pursuit of his pet cat. On some signal she did not hear, the Gryffindors turned as one and hurled their snowballs at the young offender, laughing hysterically. Tutting in annoyance, Minerva McGonagall gave a slight, sharp flick of her wand. The tree behind the Gryffindors shook its branches, and dislodged an avalanche of snow down the backs of their necks, turning their laughter to howls of surprise.

A chuckle from the doorway made McGonagall turn around. Albus Dumbledore came to join her at the window, his hands clasped loosely behind his back

"And so Pallas rains down judgement upon her subjects" he observed with mock solemnity and a warm smile.

"They deserved it," she said with conviction.

"Be that as it may, it's Christmas which means you should have a break from playing disciplinarian too. Will you take a walk with me in the forest?"

Minerva glanced out the window once more. Her shrewd gaze spied some Hufflepuff third years setting up what could only be an ambush for an approaching group of Slytherins.

"I'd love to, Albus," she said.

* * *

They walked for some time along the perimeter of the school grounds, sometimes talking and laughing over events of the last term, sometimes sharing a companionable silence. Eventually their meanderings took them beneath the eaves of the forest. They had not walked far however, before the peace was broken by the sound of youthful voices raised in the merriment of rule breaking. With some reluctance, they followed the noise and emerged in a small clearing. Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose and surveyed the scene before her.

"Mr Weasley. If I were to ask you _why _exactly you are burying Mr McEnroe beneath the snow in the Forbidden Forest, do you think I would like the answer?"

"Em. I shouldn't think so, Professor McGonagall." the redhead replied. His friend, still covered in snow, raised himself with some difficulty onto his elbows, and looked at her guiltily.

"I see." she continued, "Well allow me to speculate. Would it, by any chance, be part of a plot you've concocted to impress the Ravenclaw girls but which will, more than likely, result in Mr McEnroe spending the remainder of the holiday in the hospital wing?"

"Um…"

"Perhaps that was too difficult" she acceded. "Let's try another. If Professor Dumbledore and I were to walk away in the opposite direction, would I be right in assuming that the two of you would leave the forest and find a less idiotic way to spend the afternoon?"

"Definitely, Professor!" grinned the boy in relief. McGonagall merely nodded and turned away. Dumbledore smiled and watched the boys race off in the direction of the castle.

"You were a lot of help, I must say," said Minerva once they were gone.

"They hadn't ventured far into the woods, Minerva. They were just being high-spirited"

"They were being foolish."

"Boys will be boys," the headmaster said with a smile.

"I believe that's what I just said" she replied.

Dumbledore winced theatrically and raised his hand to his heart.

"Ah, my lady." he whispered softly "It pleases the fairer sex to tease, but you know not how your cruel words shoot like barbs into our hearts."

Minerva gave an unsympathetic laugh.

"I think you'll find that's actually the result of eating so much cake at dinner," she observed. After a moment's silence she continued "Anyway, I thought you brought me here so I could have a break from tormenting our students"

"Clearly they're gluttons for punishment"

"Well maybe one day I'll run away, and you'll have to dole out all the beratings and reprimands yourself."

"But you're so terribly good at it. I don't like the idea of having to do it all by myself."

"I dare say"

"You misunderstand. I mean that I don't like the idea of you ever not being here by my side. It's not something I care to think about"

She glanced at him in amazement, but he was humming to himself again and seemed quite unaware of the compliment he had just paid her.

* * *

When they emerged once more from the forest, they had reached the far side of the school. Here some of the students had been busily employed in making snowmen. Dumbledore stopped to admire a particularly artistic example, which had an extra eye, two extra arms, and was dressed in full wizard's regalia.

"He reminds me of my first Charms teacher," he said

"Really?" McGonagall asked, intrigued.

"Oh yes. He used to wear a hat just like that one."

Minerva laughed allowed.

"Sometimes - _sometimes- _I wish I could look around inside your head. It must be a strange place in there."

"You're in there more often that you think," he mumbled beneath his breath.

"What?"

"What? Oh. Nothing. I was just talking to myself. I always find it helps to keep oneself informed."

Again, she said nothing. Albus Dumbledore was an incorrigible flirt but she was unused to his charms being directed at her, and with such apparent sincerity. And she certainly would rather not dwell on how much the new attention thrilled her.

"It's getting cold," she said finally. "Let's go back indoors."

* * *

They made their way back to the headmaster's rooms. As Albus ordered tea and summoned two armchairs close to the fire, Minerva examined the presents he had received.

"That's quite a haul," she observed. The side table was covered in small gifts, obscured in nests of coloured wrapping. Pushed to one side was a large pile of new books. Minerva casually lifted the cover of the volume on top, and made a little sound of appreciation. It was a rather controversial work on switching magic by a former colleague of hers. She meant only to glance quickly through it, but soon became absorbed in his opening argument. Dumbledore tried politely to recall her attention.

"Minerva"

No response. He sighed and picked up a present from the table, then sat down in one of the chairs.

"Professor McGonagall." he tried. Still she didn't seem to hear him.

"Min?" he ventured.

She snapped at once to the alert and glared at him. Then she blushed slightly as she realised how rude she had been. Closing the book, she came and sat opposite him by the fire.

"I'm afraid there's no cure for it" he sighed, "You'll always be a Transfiguration mistress to your very core"

She just sat and watched him for a few moments as he diligently attacked a Muggle selection box that one of the second years had given him.

"And what do _you _want to be when you grow up?" she teased.

He seemed to consider for a moment. Then his eyes fell again upon the books she had been browsing.

"I shall be a knight." He declared. "I shall have magical powers of the most extraordinary kind, I shall live in a castle, and I shall spend my life saving the world from danger." He smiled as he said it, but there was an unaccustomed sadness in his eyes. Minerva realised she'd said the wrong thing and called upon her knowledge of the man to help set things right. Leaning forwards, she gently squeezed his forearms and looked up into his eyes.

"Well. I hope when you're the saviour of the universe you'll still have time to come out and play at Christmas."

He chuckled and caught her hands in his. She returned the grip tightly and addressed him more seriously.

"Albus, please don't ever feel that you're alone. I couldn't bear it if you felt that you always had to deal with everything by yourself"

"I don't feel it often. And when I do, I have my very own goddess of wisdom to talk sense into me, have I not? Thank you."

To show his appreciation he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against her cheek.

"Merry Christmas, my dear" he whispered.

Minerva's reply caught in her throat. She could feel his breath against her ear, the cool metal of his glasses in contrast to the warmth of his cheek against hers, and the slight friction as his soft beard brushed against her jaw. Her skin tingled where his lips had pressed against it.

Hardly thinking what she was doing, she brought one hand up to rest against his cheek and curled the other in the collar of his robes. She turned her head and her lips sought his.

Everything she felt for him came bubbling to the surface at once - sympathy, understanding, loyalty, respect, friendship, love, and longing; and she tried to convey in a kiss what she knew she could not explain in ten thousand words.

At first he did not respond, but remained stock-still. Had she misread the situation entirely? But no, she had simply caught him off-guard. As soon as his mind registered what was happening, he rose to his feet, pulling her with him, and returned the kiss with equal fervour. One hand moved to the small of her back to press her closer while the other hand remained entwined in hers.

At last, she pulled away and leaned her head happily against his chest. She knew what words she had to say - so cliché, so formulaic, and, right now, so entirely indispensable.

"Merry Christmas to you too," she said.

* * *


End file.
